A Faithful Memory

Reluctant Assistance

The woods were quiet as nightfall crept over the sky. Birds tucked their heads under their wings or stared watchfully about for their next meal. A light breeze whispered through the forest, rustling leaves and breathing a chill upon all it touched. Winter would come soon.

Through these woods trudged a hooded figure. He wore a cloak of deep red which was lined with fur and which he kept tightly wrapped around him. His hood was low enough that his face could not be seen, but he could be heard. Grunts and an occasional exclamation of annoyance issued from inside the hood with great frequency.

The traveler stumped through the woods, grateful at least for his new boots. They would hold up longer than his last pair had, especially in the coming snow, as would the jacket. Absent-mindedly he rubbed the soft leather with a gloved hand, thinking with grim pride on how easily he'd intimidated the merchant to sell these items at a much lower price than the rip-off he'd obviously been intending. But there was no fooling the stranger.

You mean us.
We saw through his lies.

The traveller huffed aloud. Yes, he supposed there must be some credit given to the Voices. They told him many things on a daily basis, most of them violent, and it was true that they had informed him of the merchant's deceit. But the traveller liked to think that he was smart enough to figure it out himself too.

These Voices had been with him for as long as he could remember, filling his mind with a craving for blood and his hands with the urge to strike down whoever opposed him. They screamed for death, called out for bloodshed no matter who it was he faced. The traveller shuddered in his cloak, recalling all the children, the families he'd only just refrained from slaughtering.

Hm. But not the orphans, Technoblade.
Their blood must run. Always.

"Oh I know," the traveller growled. It was a menacing, animal sound that made every creature in hearing range pause in fear, searching for a predator they did not recognize.

Technoblade continued walking, pausing once when his cloak snagged on a bush. Its opening revealed a carefully polished golden crown attached to his belt. It was set with rubies except for the front, where an emerald sparkled. Technoblade flicked his cloak free, covering the crown once more.

Listen!

With a sigh, the warrior flipped his hood down in obedience to the command. His face was a strange sight. His large eyes were a deep, dark red and his nose was actually the snout of a boar, with thick tusks protruding on either side of it. The thick, shaggy hair that spilled from his head was a reddish-pink and very tangled, and two pointed, pig-like ears stood up straight from the top of his skull. However, his face below his snout was completely human, with a firm mouth and a strong jaw. In short, his was the face of a piglin hybrid, a very rare creature.

His pointed little ears twitched as he listened for whatever had caught the Voices' attention. After a moment, he heard a faint groaning coming from somewhere to the west. He narrowed his eyes.

Life!
Life!
Kill it!

Techno winced. "Seriously? No. But I will check it out, so quit your shoutin'." He turned left and began striding towards the noises.

He didn't have to walk far at all. The trees were clustered together so that sound could not travel well, which meant that he came upon the source of the groaning after only five minutes of walking.

Next to one of the oak trees, a pit had been dug and then covered up. It was a very common trap, but very easy to fall into if one wasn't careful. Technoblade knelt at the pit's edge. Someone was in there. A small figure, mostly hidden by the large black wings that grew from his back. An avian hybrid, apparently.